By another road
by Peladon
Summary: AU, another path to the rimgs destruction.
1. Chapter 1

Characters, and everything else associated, belong to who so ever the law says they do, in most cases this is not me and I'm content. For fun not profit.

 _A/N This came whilst I was working on The Way Back and it won't let me progress that until I've written it down. A few lines that seem to have got bigger._

 **Retrieval**

The arrow was ready almost before he thought to do it.

'The line of Isildur has a weakness', his fathers words echoed in his head, "it is their pride that they can stand against all evil and remain stalwart when staring into its eyes. Elrond too is weak on this matter for reasons you know well, therefore you must be the guardian my son, you must not let their pride and weakness doom others as happened in the previous age."

The words had been ink on parchment and yet he had seen his fathers face so clearly as he read them.

'In the last age the elf that had the chance to see the evil destroyed squandered it and many have paid the price for that. I give you leave to go on this understanding, that you, a Sindar prince, will not make that mistake, that an elf will not fail again, that one of the firstborn will this time sit guard upon the weakness of the secondborn and their allies. The slightest hint of corruption in the one that bears the ring must bring action if the mistakes of the past are not to be repeated, and it will fall to you my son to be the agent of that action, of that I have no doubt. Go with my blessing for I know that you have seen enough of the shadow of evil not to fall to the blandishments of a friendship claimed, and to you alone do I trust with this. Not even to the wizard do I trust.'

At the time he had thought his father mistaken, understandable given that he knew little of the other members of the fellowship, and he had no doubt that the halfling Frodo and his friend Sam would not succumb, at least not before the quest was completed. But Frodo was caught by the wraiths and stabbed and though he lived he was weakened and the burden seemed like to kill him before Mount Doom was reached. When he asked Estel to relieve him of the burden for a little while it seemed to carry no harm and the ring was returned to the bearer without delay or complaint, the second time also. But the third, then he had seen the hint of shadow flicker in the grey eyes of the ranger and though the ring had been returned and Estel had said nothing Legolas had watched more closely afterwards. The fourth time the hesitation had been clear enough to elvish sight though quickly banished, but this time the shadow in Estel's eyes did not lift and a harsh and brooding mood set upon him, though never shown when the ring bearer was close by. That more than all else told the tale.

So when Frodo wearied again his steps becoming slow and hesitant, his skin taking on the tint of old ice and his eyes the shadow of a dark night Legolas had watched the face of a friend more closely than before. He saw the hunger, the anger, the pride boil like some poisonous broth in the others face and had known that they stood upon the brink. It would indeed fall to him just as his father had said, for the Wizard was lost.

He took to the trees, he who so often stood watch that none noticed the difference. It was in a beech that he stood when the moment came.

"No my little friend." Estel's voice was soft and gentle but the light in his eyes had the quality of steel and thunder, "you are too weary. The wound besets you despite all treatments, for the burden of this thing will not let it heal. Gandalf is lost to us and your kin are too young. Sam may take it if he wishes but I think you need his strength. Let me bear the weight of it a little longer, it is only right that I should be your respite when it was my line that left this evil in the world."

The words were fair but if there had ever been any doubt it was fled now for Legolas had been well taught in the lore of the dark ones treachery. But Frodo nor Sam had no such teaching and he heard the earnest hobbit voice close out the small chance there had been.

"Listen well Mr Frodo, for he is right. You are too weary and pained to take it back this night. I will take it if you wish it but I think my place is watching over you for I am better fitted to that than to great tasks." He looked towards the rangers pack sat close beside his feet. "It is safe enough where it is for the moment, none will touch it unless danger finds us, which will be soon enough for you to take its burden back unto yoursel"  
There was a moment of silence then Frodo smiled up into Estel's face with grateful thanks.  
"A little while longer then, until morning, then I will be rested and will take back that burden I swore to bear."  
The ranger smiled and clapped him lightly upon the shoulder.  
"Yes, I will carry until morning when you will be better rested. Sleep now for Legolas scouts for danger and he will give us good warning should evil approach."  
Frodo nodded and settled back into his blankets as Gimil returned with more wood for the fire.

"Wretched elf, again there is no sign of him when he is needed. Mutters something about hearing the soft footfalls of the evil one and disappears."  
Estel frowned towards the dwarf.  
"What did he say and in which direction did he go?"  
"He said no more than I have told you. Other than that he would scout further back along our trail so that we were not caught unaware. Oh and that he might not be back to eat. As for direction, he headed towards the river in as much as I could see."  
With that Gimli began feeding the fire and bustling about with packs and pans.

Estel had looked towards the river with that faint frown still upon his face, but after a few minutes he settled down beside the fire and joined in the chatter and preparations for the meal.

It was a dark night, neither moon nor stars offered light, but that is no problem for an elf of the Greenwood. So when Estel stirred as all the other slept it was not hard to see. Sam had been set the watch but he had been drowsy as soon as the quiet descended on the little group and half asleep not long after, by the time that Estel sat up and reached for his pack the hobbit was too far into the land of dream to see. Though what could he have done if he had?

Estel rose slowly and slid further into the shadows away from the fire. His hand moved into the pack and was withdrawn' he made a fist, something, some deeper shadow hanging below it. Slowly he raised his other hand and reached to grasp it but he was too late for the first arrow was flying, biting his hand before he heard it, the second came close after catching the falling shadow and bearing it away into the trees.

The cry that escaped him at its loss gave testimony to how close he had come to damnation, only the sight of his own blood stemming the rise of bitter anger as he realised what had been done and what had so very nearly been done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Transportation**

The owl swooped low, drifting through the darkness as easily as if the moon rode high though the truth was this was one of the darkest nights seen in many years. She settled on a low bough some feet above the shadowed head of the elf currently in earnest conversation with the trees, watching with tilted head as he bent his head against the trunk of beech beneath her. Though the bird could not hear the conversation she did not doubt that it referred to the thing beside the elfs left foot for its strangeness was clear to her. A fallen branch was the resting place of an arrow and caught upon its fletching was something that gave off some disturbance in the world that caused her to flutter her wings in disgust. She did not know what it was, nor did she wish to, but she could see it reaching its malevolence out towards the elf. Yet it could not reach him for the forest around her pushed it back, the thoughts of all growing things around him uniting to scatter its black shadow and to keep it from encroaching upon his light.

Elves, she knew elves of old though they were rarely seen here. Strong they were, stronger than men, and well connected to the music of life. Elves stepped lightly through the world and the music of the One rang within their own song. Only for an elf would she have made this journey and only by a few of them would she be commanded to do so. This one was not the one who commanded but he had a similar feel, the feel of one who spent much time amongst growing things and nearly as much time in their service. The one who commanded her had chosen well.

For some time she sat there and watched until a last the elf raised his head and said something, his words like the sigh of the wind and for a moment the sound burnt like fire in the air. He stepped back and pulled the arrow from the log, snapping off the head and holding the blunt shaft out towards the beech with a graceful and grateful bow, a gesture the tree seemed to return.

The elf grasped the arrow and held it close to the tree just at the point where a small wound breached the bark below a newly sprouting branch. The owl watched as a slow trickle of some liquid, deep red and slow moving began to drip from the wound running down the arrow shaft to gather about the the thing that nestled amongst the fletchings first slicking it a golden red then covering it more deeply as the flow continued. The owl tilted her head to better see, watching it a closely as any prey upon the forest floor as the golden red shroud swallowed the escaping darkness, trapping it within whatever it was that so disturbed the world. She watched the forests living mind strengthen its grip as the thing tried to twist its tendrils closer to the elf until its containment was completed and its covering rendered the source of the dtsturbance silent.

Now the elf looked up and saw her and his soft smile was as bright as the stars that hid behind the dense veil of cloud. He spoke softly  
"It is you sent I think, and I thank you for your service for all things that live and would be free. iI will be a little time yet."  
She did not understand the sound of the words yet she understood their meaning, and when he reached into his cloak and brought out some elven bread she floated down upon his shoulder to surrender her burden and accept the gift for she had much flying to do before dawn.

As the owl ate he watched the sap setting hard about the ring, feeling the dark mind of it cloud and fall quiet. When it was silent he sent his thanks to the trees and drew out his knife to shorten the shaft. Then he drew a vine tendril from the fallen branch, cutting a portion free with silent thanks to the plant it sprang from. The vine was strong and yet soft and he secured the resin coated ring more securely to the arrow before presenting it to the bird.  
"Fly then little sister. I do not know where you head and that is as it needs to be but I wish you safe passage. Should danger threaten you secrete this somewhere safe and protect yourself. I will do my part and with luck none will know that this evil thing travels by a different route."

He watched as she lifted soundlessly into the dark canopy of the trees and disappeared as gracefully as she had appeared. With a silent prayer to the One for her safe keeping he turned and headed back towards the camp.

xxx

He awoke to a grey morning with a sense of fear that he couldn't quite place, until he remembered the night before. He lay for a moment wondering what he was to do and how he could explain that the quest was over. They would have to return to Imladris but he already knew that he couldn't go with them, for he could not bring the shame upon Elrond's house. Long ago Elrond had allowed his forefather to keep the ring when it should have gone to the fires he would not have that Lord now face the knowledge that he had once again allowed that line to prevent the rings destruction. Legolas would carry the message, no doubt he was already on his way for who else had the arrow belonged to? No, he would go north, return to his Rangers and hope to pay for his sins as best he might.

For a moment he paused to wonder if Legolas would withstand the rings demands or if he would slip into the darkness to become the new lord of the ring in the hours and days to come. What would that mean for them all?

But there was no point in wondering such things, nor in delaying matters.

With that thought he sat up and stretched his gaze wandering around their little camp, feeling as if cold water had suddenly been poured over his head as his gaze drifted to a rock set a little way to the side and he met the eyes of their elvish companion.

The elf smiled and inclined his head in greeting.  
"Good morning Estel it looks as if you slept well. I have some water boiling and we will have tea soon enough."  
Legolas spoke cheerfully and no shadow of anger or disappointment could be found in his look or voice.

Before he could respond he heard Frodo moan and then the sound of Sam shuffling towards the other hobbit with soothing words, then a muttered curse as Gimli rolled over and struck his knee upon a stone. All around him the others stirred and began to face another day upon this hard and wearying road. Legolas responded to each in the same manner as he had every day since their trek began and when he handed Aragorn his tea there was no sign or sense that this morning was any different to his eyes.  
"Have you been on watch all night?" he managed to ask as he took the cup.  
"That I have, but it is no hardship for me as you know."  
"Were there any problems and cause to change our plans?" he responded carefully.  
There was a small shake of the bright head.  
"All is as it should be. Early in the night I thought I detected the movement of dark forces and retraced our steps a little. A couple of orc was all I found and hunting by the look of their bows. I watched them for a while but they turned aside from our path and struck to the west of us and so I let them go. We should not draw attention to our passing if we can manage it."  
He nodded slowly.  
"Nothing else to cause you concern occurred?"  
"A scream or two, nothing more. I think that one or both of the orc fell victim to a hunters' snare or some such thing for I heard no sound of battle and the trees did not speak of it. Even so the sooner we are on the move again the better, once we come to the plains we will need to travel by night and that will make it harder for the little ones."

With that he rose and moved towards the fire, piling ashes upon it as the others sat huddled in their blankets sipping tea and nibbling bread.

'Aragorn' Frodo's voice came from beside him. "I am as rested as I will be, you were right that I needed a night free of it and I feel far less weary and desperate in this mornings light. I am ready to take up the burden again.  
"He felt the chill enter his blood as he realised that the moment had arrived, it could not be delayed, at the best he might persuade them that he did not know where it had gone but even then he knew he would see the trust die from their eyes and the fear and disappointment bloom. At the worst… well he did not know how he could bear that. The he realised Sam was speaking.  
"By your leave Mr Aragorn I saw where you put it."  
But before he could respond the hobbit was holding out a chain to Frodo on which was suspended a gold ring. Aragorn stared at in disbelief for a moment as Frodo undid his shift, then it was gone covered by the linen as Sam fastened it about his friend's neck and settled his cloak more firmly about his shoulders.

He swallowed hard and gave a faint smile not daring to show more interest than that.  
"I am glad to hear it. Perhaps it will get easier now." He heard himself say. "Do not be afraid to ask for help my dear Frodo if it becomes intolerable for I would not have this quest be your end if I can do anything to avoid it."  
Frodo gave him that soft and trusting smile thatt so warmed his heart and reached out to grasp his wrist.  
"I know that and count myself blessed for having such good and noble friends about me on so fell an endeavour."

Less than half an hour had passed before they were on their way again, Aragorn led the way whilst Legolas scouted ahead as was his custom.

As he carved a path for the Hobbits to pass though the undergrowth he wondered if it had been a dream, or if had it been a vision, a warning to him that he was no stronger than Isildur had been. Either way he made a vow to himself that he would get them to Mount Doom and that he would not touch the evil thing again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Recovery**

The first full moon of autumn bloomed over the darkened forest, a night flower of silvered red gold that sharpened shadows and gilded sheltered glades.

In one such glade not far from his Halls the king of the wood met with his three oldest friends. He had put aside the robes of the king and was dressed as a warrior of Doriath would have been at the time of his begetting, for what reason even he could not have said... He had dismounted and spent some considerable time in communion with the trees but now he stood back and bowed to the great oak that was the kings tree before he turned to the waiting Lords with a small smile.  
"I am called, it has happened as I feared it would, the line of Isildur falters again and this time its pride must not be allowed to damn all. Arda has suffered enough for their hubris."  
The three exchanged looks before one replied.  
"But what can you do my lord? Those sent by Elrond of Imladris on the quest are far away, and we know not where they are or what route they will take." He shrugged, "If the Ranger betrays the trust as you suggest he might then what can we do?"  
Thranduil gave a small sad smile.  
"The trust is all but broken, there is no other reason for the call, and I can only do what was planned and agreed."  
The same Lord frowned."Agreed my lord? By whom?"  
Thranduil placed a hand upon his shoulder as he replied.  
"That is best not spoken for now, only say by those who do not trust to the nobility of a line of mortal men who have already been tested and fallen short. If I return then I will give you a full account."  
The frown deepened as he looked at his king.  
"If, my lord, do you doubt that you will?"

Thranduil's eyes drifted up to the moon and their beloved stars and a deep sadness entered them, sparkling tears turning them to white gems. His voice was low and ermine soft.  
"I cannot say. How can I assume that I will be stronger than those of the past or even than those already on the quest? All that I can trust to is the grief that the evil has brought to me and all that I care for, to the bitter sadness of the failure of our kind before, to the love I bear for those that have suffered and endured, to the song of the forest. That, and the strength of my allies in this matter."  
He turned to the three and reaching out he caught and bound their right hands together within his grip.  
"To you I trust the Realm and its defence. By agreement with the forest I have removed my protections from the trees for I will need to concentrate upon this task above all else if I am to succeed. You will need to be more vigilant than ever for evil is gaining strength. If I fail then war will come and it will be one there will be no winning, for this reason I must risk all. If the Valar give me strength and I do not fail then war may still come but it will be one in which we can prevail. In either event it must fall to you to make the people safe and protect the forest as far as can be managed if I do not return."

Each nodded, tears starting to their eyes at the grief in his look for it was clear that he thought this their farewell. He drew a deep breath and continued.  
"Detailed plans for my loss lie upon my throne. I name Legolas my heir should he return. If he does not then I charge you to take the matter to the people of the Realm and request that they chose the new line of kings if they will have one. Yea or nay I leave it to you to see their choice enacted."  
Their fingers tightened around his and they bowed their heads in agreement.

Thranduil gently pulled his hand from theirs and stepped towards his waiting horse.  
"Now I must be gone I have a way still to travel and I would be at my goal as soon as I may be, for the longer this matter lies the greater the risks of discovery become."  
They stood back, bowing low as he mounted and looked down upon them.  
"Tell Legolas of my pride in him and my love for him. You too my friends, know that you are in my heart and that your stalwart support and care has always been most dear to me. To my people say only that I tried my best for them, even to the end, flawed though it sometimes was. Forgive me that I can tell you no more now but it has to be this way and in time I trust you will understand why. If the best should be our lot this time then I will see you again before the snow flies and we will feast as never before. Until then my heart is with you though my thoughts must be elsewhere."

With that he turned his horse and disappeared into the shadows.

xxx

The moon was a silver half when next he stood in company.

Here in the far north the air was colder and frost already glittered on rock and stunted trees, yet these trees remembered enough of their kin to pass the song of the forest to him as he waited. No orc ventured here now but they had agreed that they should do as little as could be managed to attract attention, and so he had left his horse in a shepherd hut at the foot of the mountain. He had climbed in the shelter of the darkness, keeping to the shadows and now he waited alone and in silence for the next of his allies to arrive, drawing comfort and relief from his fears in the faint song of the land and the cold beauty of the stars.

Thranduil pulled his cloak closer around him as looked to the east, watching the small cart that struggled up the narrow track towards the rocky plateau on which he had camped the night before. The cart would halt soon to allow its occupant to rest, for he was no longer young even in the reckoning of his kind, something Thranduil had to remind himself of when his impatience and desire to be gone lashed him. He turned his gaze up towards the stars and let his mind wander, it was a strange experience for one untouched by time to be a slave to it, yet for the first time he could feel its pressure at his back, an interval that was not even a breath had taken on greater weight than an age. Yet perhaps it was an age, here in the darkness of the mountains maybe the time of mortals and immortals were for once aligned.

He looked back towards the cart as it came to a halt, saw its occupant dismount and free the horse from its harness before feeding it and settling down in the shelter of the wheel. Thranduil sighed and turned his eyes back up to the heavens, it would be another day of waiting yet it seemed, but by the next moonrise he would be here and they could call upon the third and begin the ending.

xxx

"It will do?"  
Thranduil ignored the indrawn breath of the dwarf and looked towards the third, the one on whom so much depended.  
"It is you who must carry the burdens and so it is for you to say yea or nay."  
The Windlord stepped closer and looked down at the items laid upon the stony ground, the harness that would allow the elf to ride his back high above the world for many weary miles without falling and the little bag into which the thing of evil would be placed. After a moments consideration of them he lowered his head in agreement.  
"It shall suffice."

The dwarf shifted impatiently.  
"Then let us begin, for I have a kingdom to look to and would see this sorry matter completed as soon as may be." Dain's voice was harsh and worry was etched in his face.  
Thranduil gave him a long look and then inclined his head.  
"I too would see this matter over quickly for those on the quest should be drawing close to the black gate now. It has been more than two seasons since the substitution was made. But I offer you one last chance to accompany us to the crucible in which this thing must perish. It is for you to say King under the Mountain."  
The dwarf shook his head with a heavy sigh.  
"Nay, I'll not come. An elf may venture so close to the stars and live but not a dwarf. Certainly not one with more silver than ruby in his beard! Keep to our agreement and plan and I will be content." He shot the elf a strange look. "Know then that in this I will trust, for there has been no deceit in our dealings since the dragon was removed. For the sake of those who died in the battles past and for those who walk now towards the Doom I will wish you well and look to see you again in your forest when the world has new hope."

Thranduil smiled.  
"I will welcome you at our feast, and teach you yet to care for a good wine." He held out his hand, "until then may the One watch over you and yours and the Powers aid you in your endeavours."  
Dain reached out and grasped the extended hand with a warriors clasp then smiled with a shake of his head.  
"Aye, may they be with you also for your need will be great I fear even with this."  
At that he drew out a small casket that he had kept within his cloak.  
"We have put into it all that we can. With luck it will help to shield that thing from the one who wants it as you draw closer. But in the end its fate and ours lies with you and the Windlord. Keep to the plan my lords and let us hope for the best."

The voice of the Windlord drifted upon the air.  
"Then it is agreed, let us tarry no longer."

xxx

For two days they had flown the edge of the ring of frozen mountains searching each of the possible resting places in turn, there had been six agreed and neither Thranduil nor the Windlord knew which had been chosen. It was in the last but one they found it as the morning sun glittered on the snow cap of the highest peak, yet even the brilliance of that reflection could not banish the sense of darkness that had lain upon this land.

The small cousin of the Windlord who had carried it the last stretch of its journey this far had chosen a narrow lipped hole beside one of the high mountain streams on the western side of the frozen peaks for its resting place. Thranduil slipped from the eagle's back and went down on hands on knees to peer into the hole, nodding to his companion as he caught the faint glint of gold within. Then he rose and turned to look towards the land that had once carried so much evil, this was a place from which an elf could make out the ruined walls of Angmar and feel the cold malice that seeped from it. He was not surprised by the heavy feel of the air weighted as it was with the pain of the past, for that reason had they chosen it, sure that the lingering corruption of this place was enough to hide any call the ring might yet be capable of giving..

Thranduil shivered as he scanned the ruined land, he knew the stories if that dark kingdom well and he felt great sadness and horror so near to a place of such terrible history. The witch king would never return here for nothing remained of his master's power and without that this would always be a place of empty silence, yet as the wind tore at his cloak and hair it was all too easy to imagine what it had been and to fear that it might yet rise again.

"Courage Elven king, " he heard the Windlord's voice, "the time of this place is long past and its evil is but an echo carried in the rocks."  
The great eagle turned its head and scanned the horizon.  
"The power that made that kingdom terrible is fallen and chained; even the evil in the south could not restore it. Sauron might command the world with the ring but even then this place would remain a blasted relic. There is nothing to fear here but memory."

The elf nodded but his eyes remained fixed on the far peaks..  
"Yet it still freezes my blood. I was not begotten when Morgoth raised his standard here but the memories of all the firstborn lost before that banner seem to haunt it, even though I know they rest in Mandos care. Many fled to him from those peaks and slopes, and pain and terror lay as thick as the ice in its valleys. My kin suffered here."  
He looked back towards the small crevasse where a glint of gold in the strengthening light betrayed what lay within then he raised his eyes and stared once more towards the mountains.  
"They call to me Windlord, cry out that this time there must be an end. The weight of their pain and hopes near crushes me."

The great eagle tilted his head, a small gust of icy air fluttering the feathers at his neck and wing tips.  
"Then we should not delay. For I doubt they would wish to increase your burden, if indeed it is your kin that cry out to you. But is it? The ring is devious and though it is contained, its voice muted, it may be seeking ways to sap your will. Cage it more tightly and let us be gone. My sons and daughters answer my call and will be with us before the sun reaches its height, then we may leave this place of ice and follow the stars towards the fires where the last of the evil nests.

Tearing his eyes from the far peaks the Elvenking gave a small nod and drew the little casket from within his cloak opening the lid with care. Inside the dull metal surfaces were etched with so many dwarf and elven runes that they could barely be made out, character crossing character in a web of enchantments. The bottom was lined with herbs and some small crystals whose colour seemed to change even as he looked at them. Thranduil reached forward and caught the chain that held the ring, drawing it out from its hiding place. The precious resin given by the trees of the south still held it fast, and though he felt it try to speak to him the words was muffled by the song of life, distant and without power. Yet even as he noted this a stream of images of the past of this place flared as bright and hard in his mind as the sunlight that glittered on the gold and the faint shadow of a thought drifted through his mind.  
'Do you not deserve it, think of your battles, of all that you have learned. Think of the peace your strength and power could bring. Lorien and Imladris would pale beside the beauty of your forest and the great Lords of the Noldor would speak your name in hushed tones of respect and awe. Your people would know no more fear, they would dwell in bliss beneath their trees and they would stand as great warriors and leaders in the songs of the bards.'

With a curse he pushed the thought from his mind driving it out with the memory of his father falling to Sauron's throng before his eyes, replacing the glitter of gold with the red of the blood that stained the snow as he stood before the lonely mountain, pushing away the image of the wise bowed before him with his last memory of his sons face. He drew a deep breath his hands curling into fists  
'You will not play me for the fool as you did Isildur,' he thought angrily, 'nor will you bend my desire for peace to your will as you did with Elrond. I am Sindar, I know the treachery of soft words, of those who kill their own for some pretty artefact. I have lived my life and defended by kin by the strength of my will and the clarity of my thought not by the gift of enchanted rings, I know you for what you are. I know your power and I own my own weakness, I will not hear you.'  
He felt the rings frustration as he drew on every memory of the dark lord's malice he had and closed his mind to it. With care he dropped it into the box shaking it to settle the ring into the herbs and stones then he dropped the chain in too and closed the lid securing the clasp.

The Windlord looked at him with tilted head.  
"It tries to bend you as we expected?"  
"Yes. But I was prepared, for I well know what it is capable of. Did it speak to you?"  
"Perhaps, a strange thought or two passed through my mind. But as you said when first we spoke of this matter, what can it offer me? The wind and the sky are mine and those are things it cannot take from me or offer to me. As for command of the world, that would chain me and my kin to the ground and we would not wish for that. It has no power over me, or not enough to sway me from the task."  
Thranduil smiled.  
"Yet it should not be underestimated, it is devious and determined and we must stay on our guard."The Windlord inclined his head.  
"Indeed Elvenking. I will be your guard and you will be mine, and my sons and daughters will set a guard upon us both if need be. This they have sworn to all our kin. I will drop you into the fire if it claims you and you seem like to fail us and you must send us both there if I do. On this we remain agreed?"

Thranduil looked towards Angmar again and there was steel in his voice as he replied.  
"We do."  
The Windlord stretched his wings, the sun glittering on the golden flight feathers as they fluttered in the chill wind.  
"Then secure the thing and let us rest a while, for the flight south will be long and hard."

xxx


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N_

 _This is getting longer than I expected (Ha as if that hasn't happened before!)_

 _I'm still not happy with this chapter but after numerous reworks and with RL imposing heavy time pressure I'll go with it and hope it works for anyone who reads it._

 _As before all the great Tolkein's except for the mad plot angle_

 **P**

 **Flight towards darkness**

Frodo was gone.

He had taken the ring and fled some weeks ago with only Sam to keep him company. Boromir, who might have had some knowledge of that departure, was dead, struck down by many orc arrows without even chance to draw his sword. The Fellowship they left behind assumed that the two Hobbits had taken the road to Mount Doom; and neither Gimli not Aragorn held much hope for their success. In their darker private thoughts both of them feared that without their help Frodo would fall victim to the ring's blandishments.

Only Legolas seemed undismayed by the turn of events, something neither man nor dwarf or other hobbits could understand  
"The ring will not claim him, of that I am sure," had been the elf's comment on discovering the hobbits gone. "Our concern must be that the eye of Sauron finds him out before he reaches his goal."  
He had become sombre, grief written in his eyes as he continued  
"With Gandalf lost it must fall to us to ensure that the dark ones eye and attention is kept otherwise directed, as it must fall to us to ensure that the fortresses of men do not succumb to the dark ones forces."  
A view he had not changed in the time since and when the other hobbits were captured Legolas joined wholeheartedly into their pursuit even though it took them from the planned road. For as he said there was nothing else to do not when there was no hope of their company finding Frodo without betraying the ring bearer to their enemy.

His words caused Aragorn a momentary hesitation for though he agreed with the words wholeheartedly there had been some fleeting shadow in the elf's face that made his wonder for a moment what it was that Legolas truly feared. But the thought was as fleeting as the look and, as the sun broke through the clouds above them scattering the gloom that had wrapped the world until that moment, both melted away as if they had never been.

Now, as he sat in the darkness, beneath the trees of another strange forest, Legolas wondered if his father and those others who knew of the matter, for there must be some, had anticipated such an occurrence. It could not be denied that it made the matter less difficult than it might otherwise have been.

He knew the ring that Frodo carried to be false and yet still the hobbit had seemed weighed down by it, and his companions had spoken in whispers of the malevolence they also felt from it. It would seem that his father had been right in that too, that the ring sought out the weakness in the listener and they would continue hear its echo whilst they believed that siren voice still to be calling them. They would never realise that it was their own evil impulses, their own fears and resentments, that they now listened to, and the loss of the ring would cause no quietening of them.

In the end those inner voices might claim Frodo too but he would have no help in giving them substance now and the scale of evil that an unaided hobbit could achieve was small by the nature of the kind. Why else had Gandalf been willing to leave the ring with Bilbo Baggins for so long, or to entrust it Frodo at the start? Even if he put the pretty trinket upon his finger his own evil would not take him far, unless the dark one felt his intent and claimed him. But there was no reason to believe that was possible. No he had no worries for Frodo or Sam, other than that the stair to Mordor might claim them.

For all that Legolas was still weighed with worry as they continued through the lands of the horse lord and towards Gondor. His concern lay not with Frodo but with his father and his allies who were close to the thing, and who would be taunted by its promises for every moment that they were. Legolas knew little of what was planned, it had to be that way, but he prayed to the Valar for their safety and endurance. More than anything he hoped their time bearing the evil would be short. Sauron's ring would become more desperate the closer they came to the point of its destruction and its deceit would grow more deadly as it did so. That they would be sorely tested he did not doubt, any more than he doubted that they had planned for such eventuality. Yet who could say if those plans would be enough when faced with the malice of the dark ones ring.

All the more reason then to ensure that Sauron's eye did not seek them; that it was turned elsewhere.

Legolas worried too that Frodo might reach Mount Doom before his father arrived there, for if that happened then the chance of Sauron realising that the true Ring no longer sat with the hobbit grew greatly. If he came to know that then he would send out his servants to seek for it elsewhere. Legolas closed his eyes at the pain of the thought for he knew nothing of how the ring would be carried or the dangers that that his father would face, he did not even know if he travelled alone. More than anything he hoped that he did not, for this was a load none should bear alone and his father had known many sorrows in his life. No doubt the ring would use them all against him, and alone, aI alone, the burden might be too much to bear!

He recalled a line in his father's letter that betrayed Thranduils thinking on the matter and knew that if the Elvenking thought he might fall then he would take what measures he could then flee the world, and hope that neither his remains, nor the ring, would ever be found.

Should that happen then only the destruction of Sauron would end the torment of the world, something else the king's son chose not to think upon.

Legolas wished with all his heart that he could send his father news of their quest but he could not, and even if there had been a way he would not have ventured it; for they were too close to achieving their goal for him to endanger its success for his own comfort. He would continue on this path as if the ring still sat with Frodo and trust to his father's wisdom, and that of those who concocted this matter with him, and keep faith with them even unto his own death. If he must die to maintain the illusion of the ring that Frodo bore then he was willing to do so, and hope to assuage his father's grief and guilt in the Undying Lands.

xxx

It was as well that elves do not need to eat or sleep as the sons of men do for the journey from the bleak lands of Angmar to Mordor was long and the Windlord not disposed rest more than the need for water demanded; or when some possible servant of Sauron was on the wing. Then they set down and took shelter in stone or forest thicket until the danger was passed. The Windlord and his children found such resting difficult for they were not made to walk the land, yet they bore it with no complaint knowing well what was at stake.

The Windlord's son and daughter had joined them not long after their departure from the bleak lands of the Witch-king and the three flew as an arrowhead high above the world, so high that little on the ground was easily discerned even by elvish eyes. The sun rose, tracked the sky and set many times as they journeyed, its rays growing warmer upon his back as the weeks passed. But Thranduil preferred the nights when the stars shone bright and the moon rode the sky beside them, his silver gleam slicking the feathers of the Windlord and setting small fires burning in his amber eyes. These nights Thranduil could feel himself close to his forbears, those who had woken beside the lake before the sun was born and had roamed a world still young and unmarred. A world lit only by the stars in the days before the Valar called them and they began the trek west.

Thranduil had never known Arda unmarred, nor had he seen days without the sun, but now, riding the eagles back above cloud and shadow with the stars and the great lamp of the night closer than he had ever seen them, he understood more than ever before what had kept his Sylvan people from crossing the mountains. Not even the knowledge of the horror they flew towards could dim his wonder at the song of the stars or his awe at the beauty of the night sky and, perhaps, it was that awe that kept the ring silent when the sun was set.

Or perhaps it was the stars that chained its tongue, for it was not silent when the sun rose.

Not even the combined enchantments of elf and dwarf could entirely silence it once day dawned, and though its voice was rendered dim and distant by those enchantments still it tried to steal his thoughts. Day after day it sought to bend him to its service, to seduce him with visions of power and glory, to sing to him songs of his own greatness, a greatness that only needed him to put on the ring to come to be. But Thranduil had not lived so long without hearing many lies, nor had he ruled for an age without meeting many deceivers, those who by flattery and soft, slithering words sought to bend him to their interests. Those who would have him make their friends his friends and their enemies his enemies, those who sought to persuade him of their honour even as they sought to entwine him in the most baseless acts. Men and dwarfs had tried, and often over the centuries. But Thranduil had lost his belief in stainless virtue to the Kinslayers and any credulity he ever had, any belief in promises and words was withered on the harsh battle plain before Mordor. Deeds were the only truth and he knew well the deeds of the ring's master.

He knew what Sauron had promised the Easterlings and the other men who fought for him and he had seen the true nature of their reward. Even as it whispered to him he knew the promises of the ring to be as baseless as those made by its maker. Even so there were times, often at sunrise and sunset, when it would double its efforts to ensnare him, or catch him unawares, and he would find himself wondering for a moment or two if this time it might be different.

But he had shed the habit of easy trust when Isildur took the ring rather than destroy it, and even as it drew him he would find memories rising up almost unbidden to drive it away again. Defying the ring brought pain even though he did not touch it, for memories of loss and grief surged up to remind him of the truth of the thing and the evil it was in thrall to.

The dark lord could not regain full power without the ring and the ring could not fulfil its own desires without its lord, so his siren call would continue to bid it come home and it would seek to bend the will of any whose path it crossed to do so.

'Unless I find another Lord to take his place' it whispered. 'A lord who is strong enough to command me. Are you not such a lord? You, who has known two ages and more and been a king for one, who has fought great battles and seen the weakness of others times uncounted, are you not such a Lord? Are you not able to be such a Lord? Your wishes can be mine if you but embrace me. Put me upon your hand and great could be your power and with it the good that you could do. Many would be those who bent their knee to you and found their salivation, hope and joy in so doing. Is it not justice that you who have suffered so much should be the one to teach mercy to others?'

Thranduil smiled grimly to himself each time it made that gambit for such inducements, or others much like it, had been laid before him many times and he had known them for what they were. For he knew that he could be the salvation of none who could not be their own salvation, and he had learned from the bloodletting of Feanors wretched sons that honour cannot be bought with the sacrifice of innocents.

Sometimes he would feel the steady pace of the Windlord flight stutter for a moment or two and he would know that the great eagle was being courted too. If the ring could win the Eagles interest then Thranduil knew that he could be tossed to the ground and the ring taken from his broken body, and yet he had no real fear of it. For they had discussed this many times in the days of searching before they found where their co-conspirators had deposited the ring and again before they began the journey. No, there was nothing the ring could offer the Windlord or his kin that they would value enough for the price, and Thranduil would only fall if he put on the ring, and that they had agreed.

As the weeks passed and they drew closer to Mount Doom the elf and the Eagle felt the ring trying to reach out, to call, to its master or his servants. But the enchantments that bound it were not so easily defeated, for they were old magic drawn from knowledge that was held in no book or scroll, power that had been jealously guarded and never shared with the high elves that were exiled from Valinor. They were of a power that rarely resided in created things. Sauron might understand the power of the Elven rings but of this he could know little, if he knew anything at all, and so the ring was ill prepared to best the thing that contained it. Though it might still reach those that bore it towards its destruction its voice could go no further and even at Mount Doom itself the master would never hear the ring's call.

So they flew on, fighting their battle with the ring, high above the world that Sauron sought to claim, until Mordor came in sight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 Into the Fire**

 _As before all the great Tolkein's except for the mad plot angle_

High above the wasteland that was Gorgoroth, unseen by any on the ground through the lowering cloud, three eagles rode the hot and turbulent wind. The Elvenking still clung on the back of the Windlord, weary and wishing only for the end to be in sight. Even at this height the stars were hidden by the smoke when the heavy clouds broke, and the towering thunderous mass had been a pall across the sky for much of the last days of their journey. Now, as Orodruin the mountain of doom reared up before them, those clouds were rent by lightening and the wind drove squalls of rain and hail to hiss against the heating rocks below and hammer at the face and hands of the elf.

They had passed across Saurons' border and the lands of Mordor laid out beneath them were black and harsh, all life driven from them by the Dark Lords poison more than two millennia ago. If life had ever returned here in the years between his occupancy there was no sign of it now for the slopes and gulley were bare of any vegetation but for a scattering of very small and stunted bushes with leaves as brittle and sharp as old glass. But even these disappeared within the shadow of Orodruin whose brooding presence could be felt even when darkness fell. Now, when what passed for day lay across the land ,it could be seen as well as felt, and amidst the swirling clouds of scouring grit the Mountain stood sharp, like a dagger rising, point up, from a cushion of dusty black velvet.

Above the blasted landscape the air was full of ash, and fogs of foul smelling mists that could send a person stumbling in a daze drifted through the blighted valleys like aimless and thoughtless wraiths. Around the Mountain the land was uneasy, periodically it shivered and heaved as if pushed and pulled by unseen hands, and the undersides of the clouds took on a red and wounded look. Yet the Mountain itself seemed to stand alone. It rose steep and sheer, towering above its feet of blasted stones where the rocks of its clefts and ridges were twisted and shattered, the slopes swathed in shifting blankets of scree that could roll without warning sending the unwary tumbling, and that would claw at the ankles of walkers even when still. The mountain peak seemed to shimmer in the rising heat taking on the same red glow as the clouds for a moment then falling back to sullen grey.

Looking down on bitter terrain below, at the sharp tooth of the peak they flew towards, the thought flashed through Thranduil's mind that it was indeed a thing apart and that perhaps his end would lie at a lonely mountain after all, but one that was filled with fire rather than a dragons gold.

xxx

It was up those hostile and treacherous slopes that the hobbits had toiled to reach the dark gateway into the depths of the Mount of Doom. In truth it was Sam that toiled almost carrying the exhausted Frodo, dragging him ruthlessly over the broken land when he seemed minded to sink onto the blackened stone and give up. Sam did not care much for great deeds and grand plans but he had recognised that there was no choice in the matter when they had left the Lord and Lady in their peaceful Realm under the Mallorns, for if great and powerful elves such as they could offer no help then truly there was no choice. Frodo would try his best to honour that which he had freely chosen to do and Sam would not break his covenant with Frodo, so on they would go; together to the end.

Sam had also come to realise that it would be the end, and though he knew it meant that he would never see the Shire again he consoled himself with the belief that his end would prevent the end of the Shire, that his loss would mean that the land, the woods and meadows and gardens he loved so much would never be blighted as the land around him had been. It would mean that the Shire would stay green, its rivers bright and lively and its glades would know the seasons as they had all his short life, free of fire, free of evil.

Frodo said he could no longer see the Shire but Sam could, he could hear its breezes too and smell the scent of new leaves and spring flowers. For those he would go on to the end, and help Frodo to do the same. Frodo was not yet lost, if he thought about it Sam would confess himself surprised, for Frodo spoke often of the whispering of the ring and how it sought to persuade him to betrayal and evil. When he looked at the other hobbit Sam could see the shadow of torment in his eyes and the bitterness of the battle he fought. Yet he could not imagine that battle, nor could he explain why the ring had been so silent in the hours that he had carried it, he could only be grateful.

So as Frodo stumbled again Sam cast his eyes up to where the shadow of the entrance to the mountain could be seen through the drifting smoke before catching the others failing arm and steadying him.

"Come on Mr Frodo, we are nearly there, a few more steps then we can be rid of the evil thing for ever."

Bracing Frodo against his hip and pulling the others arm securely about his own neck he began to scrabble his way upwards and towards the shadow of doorway.

xxx

Thranduil prayed to the Valar for strength with an intensity he had not since the days of the last alliance for the calling of the Ring had intensified once they had crossed the boundary of Mordor and into its Masters land; and it seemed to him that the anger that had been well hidden in its earlier taunts were intensified and that as the Mountain became fully visible a hint of desperation entered into the seductive words. But the charms and enchantments in the box, and the lingering shroud of tree sap, had done their job for the words had not taken possession of his mind, though there had been times when he feared that they might before the deed was done. Only now did he allow himself the hope that he might indeed endure to the end.

Nor had there had been any sign that Sauron had sensed the presence of the Ring he had searched so hard for, neither Nazgul or fire drakes had come to challenge them and the armies of the Shadow, moving like armoured ants below them, had shown no sign of knowing what passed above them.

Now the end was in sight and Thranduil tightened his grip as the Windlord wheeled to the right and began to search for a way into the mountain, for he knew that if they were to complete their plan he must be within the mountain before the Hobbits arrived. Both elf and eagle were grimed, hair and feather laden with ash, eyes reddened and sore, throats tightened against the smoke that rose in thickening plumes from the peaks, and yet the sense of being close to an ending kept their spirits high. Not even the feeling of oppression that seemed to rise with the smoke could shake their resolve, even though they knew they were on the brink of the most dangerous part of their journey, the point at which they must separate and at which the full weight of their endeavour must fall onto the elf alone, for the eagles could not enter the mountain. That would be the point at which the Ring would make its last desperate attempts to turn him to its purpose.

The eye sight of elf and eagle is keen but it took several circles around the summit to find a place that would allow him access to the fire chamber without being seen, for they had agreed that the deed must be done from a distance and with no chance of distraction or interference. A crack in the rock on the slope to the left of the most obvious entrance was spotted on the last circuit and the eagle dropped down suddenly, hovering above the lip of a slash in the rock, allowing the Elvenking to pull his bow close and slip down to the shifting rock with a leap that only an elf could make. He didn't even try to gain any balance instead rolling forward through the small gap, the bow clutched to his chest, with the confidence of one who had spent years upon these slopes or those like them and remembered them as completely as only elven memory allowed.

Once inside the mountain he looked around to get his bearing, for it had been an Age since he had been here, since the day when he had followed Elrond into the mountain only to discover that Isildur had already left with the Ring still in his possession. Pushing the thought away he looked towards the glowing fissure that split the cave in two, the crack that opened into the heart of the mountain. But his path to the walkway was barred by another deep rift, too wide even for an elf to leap. Nor could he climb across to it, but he had come prepared and he shouldered his bow and began to climb higher, the walls of the chamber were not smooth and though the hand and foothold were small and narrow they were not beyond elven skill and above him there was a ledge that gave sight of both the causeway and the fissure. He climbed quickly, barely thinking of the actions of hands and feet, concerned only with shutting out the whispered words that seemed to echo through the chamber and with reaching the ledge before any other entered the chamber. Once there he slid back into the shadows that would hide him from sight even if any other visitor to this damned place should look up.

Visitors there soon were, for the Hobbits made better time than he had expected, and Thranduil had barely had time to draw the box from his belt and fasten it to the arrow lying along the bowstring when he heard the sound of the Hobbits approach. Now he felt the Ring redouble its efforts, reaching out not only to him but to the Hobbits too, the images of its enticement dancing before his eyes. Yet the two small beings inching their way towards the fire seemed not to hear, the one listening only to his own thoughts and fears, the other concerned only with encouraging his companion. For himself the Elvenking gasped as the visions flooded his mind, images of power, joy, greatness and domination washed through him taking over his senses and sending his heart racing and a thrill of elation washing through his blood. Every promise it had made on the journey here was made again and yet more compelling than at any point before. But he had been forewarned by Isildurs' fate long ago and he fought back with the memory of the Dunedain's men, and his sons, slaughtered in the Gladdan fields, recollections of the darkness that had stolen across Greenwood and the price his people had paid to hold it back, of the terror and torment of the creature Gollum as he languished in the Evenings cell.

Against a man it might have prevailed even at this point, but Thranduil had lived millennia, and fought the shadow for a lot of that life, and he knew much of evil. More than that he was a king, and one who had worn the crown for an age and was well acquainted with the seductive pull of power and the ruin it eventually brought. As the Hobbits drew closer to the cracks of Doom he steeled himself against the Rings renewed attempts, conjuring up an image of his son, bloodied and sorrowing, kneeling in chains at the feet of his father. For that was surely where it would end.

Nothing the Ring could offer was worth that thought.

He knocked the arrow, so focussed on the fire that glowed within the fissure and the best angle for the shot that he did not see the Hobbit place the false ring upon his finger, nor did he see the Gollum creature launch himself upon him. Nor did he hear the other Hobbits anguished call of 'Mr Frodo'. He was barely aware of Gollum falling backwards towards the fire as he let the arrow fly taking the Ring into the fissure and down into the heat within the heart of Mount Doom.


End file.
